


Domesticity

by moonmoth (greyvvardenfell)



Series: Moth & Raven [18]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Caretaking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Gender Dysphoria, Medical Procedures, Menstruation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23690275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/moonmoth
Summary: Julian helps Reyja with the pain and discomfort, both mental and physical, of her period.
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Original Character(s)
Series: Moth & Raven [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696501
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Domesticity

Oh, I hate this.

I hate this more than I can articulate.

Every month it’s the same damn thing. All bloating and cramping and indigestion and moodiness. Maybe I should get pregnant just for a break in this nonsense.

No. That’s stupid. If I hate being uncomfortable for a couple of days, I’m pretty sure being uncomfortable for nine months straight, not to mention the added discomfort of maintaining the welfare of a whole human after that, would actually ruin me.

Fuck this.

I roll over, again, and do my best to curl around the fabric-covered rice bag I warmed up before going to bed. It helps a little, but I haven’t been able to fall asleep yet. The frustration of it all is already threatening to make me cry. I can tolerate a lot of things, but having my sleep disturbed is not one of them.

That’s another con to the “getting pregnant” idea.

A particularly painful twinge grabs hold of my guts and twists. I stifle a groan with the back of my hand. Please, just let me go. I don’t even want the damn organ that’s causing so much drama! I’d rip it out myself if I could. That way, there’d be no more need to maintain my rigid, and disgusting, herbal tea schedule so Julian and I can have the sex we want. I know he was looking into a potential procedure for himself, but no doctors he’s friends with here are willing to perform it. Maybe we should ask Nazali if Prakran science—

Fuck!

I can’t hide the whimper of pain this time. For some reason, this latest cramp is too much, and the tears that have been stewing behind the scenes all night decide to spill over as well. I bury my face in the crook of my arm and let them come. Maybe I’ll feel better afterwards.

“Darling?”

Julian’s murmur tears me in two: half of me wants to sob against his shoulder, and the other half wants to disappear into the mattress. He already handles stuff like this at the clinic; he shouldn’t have to come home and deal with it too.

“Reyja, are you alright?”

Reluctantly, I lift my head. His features are softened by the golden light that beams from his palm. He looks almost divine, as though he’s been sent from the stars to soothe me. Even his bed-head seems more like angelic fire surrounding him than the tangled hair it really is.

He molds his magic into a sphere and sets it in the air above the bed, brow wrinkling when he sees how the light glistens off my cheeks. Again the urge to hide from him rises in my throat and I have to fight the impulse to shrink away as he scoots closer.

I’m not overly successful, and he pauses, concerned.

“Oh, sweetheart… It’s the cramps again, isn’t it?”

I don’t trust my voice, so all I can do is nod.

He sighs. “Mazelinka’s brew didn’t help this time, hm? What am I saying; of course it didn’t. Just look at you. Oh, if I still had the curse, I’d take away your pain in a heartbeat.” His eyes flit over the shape of my body, lingering on my belly and the swirl of agony within. 

I know he would. Whether I wanted him to or not, probably.

His hand on my forehead is blessedly cool. I didn’t realize I was burning up, flushed from the heat of the rice bag in addition to my cycle. Julian clicks his tongue in sympathy and sneaks his other hand under the covers to rub my arm.

“At the very least, I wish I still had that leech I was telling you about. Patient after patient said it worked wonders for them.”

My Juley and his leeches. The last thing I want is to shed more blood right now, though. I’m far from squeamish, but even the squish of wet fabric between my legs is disgusting me at the moment. I feel dirty. Bloody without being battered, both nauseous and hungry, exhausted with nothing to show for it… fuck, I hate this. So much.

Julian rubs his chin, searching his mind for some other remedy he can offer me. I feel like I should stop him; I’m his partner, not his patient. Maybe the best thing he can do for me is just be here, keeping me company until it passes.

And I know it will pass. As much as I despise this feeling, it doesn’t linger. One day, two at the most, and though I still bleed, the bloating and cramping eases. Manageable, on the whole scheme of things. I’ve certainly dealt with worse. And yet it shadows me long after I wash my cloth liners out and fold them back up in the top dresser drawer. If I think about it, and as labyrinthine as it seems, I know what I’m really bothered by is the reminder menstruating brings: every day, I’m mistaken for female. The vendors in the market hawking their rags and sponges at me as the latest and greatest in “feminine hygiene,” the neighbors who call me Miss North, or even Mrs. Devorak, when I pass them on the street, the vague, insensate memories of being forced to hide any evidence of abnormality, including my distaste for children and revulsion of this monthly experience, from tall figures who smell of lilac or beer. I was told it was a gift, that it came with being a woman.

But that’s not what I am.

And no leech or potion or rice bag can heal that disparity.

“Reyja?”

I sniffle. Too many thoughts crashing through my mind like waves in a storm have made more tears leak out. Julian noticed even before I did, and the pad of his thumb wiping them away feels like love.

In a way, it is.

Another coil of pain lurks in the depths of my swollen belly and I brace for its impact. Before it comes, though, cool hands pull the comforter away and caress the underside of my jaw, guiding me closer. All of him is cool. I nestle into the solidness of his chest and wrap my arms around him, holding tight to give myself something else to focus on as the cramp claws its way through me.

“That’s it, darling, that’s it,” he croons, stroking my hair. I almost protest when he takes the rice bag and sets it on his nightstand. But he quickly replaces its weight with the smooth plane of his palm and massages a wide, gentle circle across my belly. “Is this alright?”

My voice is weak and muffled when I answer. “’S good.”

He hums and switches directions. “I love you.”

I peek up at him. Under the magical light, he’s as resplendent as a statue, all red and gold. But the tenderness in his gaze as he looks back at me is so gloriously human.

I corrected him only once, when we met. He had invited me to join him at the Raven as repayment for the tarot reading I gave him after he broke into the shop, and over the drinks we didn’t drink, distracted as we were by talking, he told me that he’d never met a woman who knew as much about war history as I did.

“You still haven’t,” I had responded, eyes narrowed.

“Ah. You’re like Asra, then?”

“What does that mean?”

“He, erm…” Julian trailed off, waving his hand as he considered his words. “He doesn’t much care for the arbitrary limits of gender.”

“No, he doesn’t. It’s all societal anyway.”

“Ha! You could say that again. I’ve been all over, Reyja. Seen the sights from the Alakrib Desert to Naigenkyst.” He leaned back in the booth. “Men, women, everyone in between and beyond, the definitions are different everywhere you go. Nothing’s set in stone when it comes to people.”

I lifted an eyebrow at him. “That’s very open-minded of you, Doctor.”

That was the first time he smiled at me in that way of his, broad and cheeky with a glint in his eye that suggested he was about to say something that had gotten him smacked in the past. “I’m an open-minded man, my dear. In all sorts of ways. So, if you’re not an open-minded woman, how should I refer to you?”

Looking back on it, I can’t believe how obviously he was flirting with me. I didn’t even register it at the time. But thank god he was so determined, so brazen. We wouldn’t be where we are now if he hadn’t been. “I suppose I would be an open-minded ‘in between and beyond.’”

“Wonderful! Oh, will I have some stories for you. My mentor is quite the character, and they were instrumental in devising Prakra’s non-gendered legal codes. Well, they and their parents. Fantastic people. They still—”

I interjected before he went off on another tangent. “I don’t mind being called a ‘she,’ though. Rather than ‘they,’ I mean.”

“Ah, of course. Not to worry: I never make the same mistake twice!” He had chuckled and run his fingers through his hair. “How limiting, I say, when there are so many mistakes to be made.”

He’d kept his word. Maybe it was his previous relationship with Asra, or his friendship with Nazali, or just who he was, but Julian never referred to me as a woman again.

“Love you too,” I tell him, and snuggle deeper into his embrace.

“Perhaps, when your stomach has settled, we could take a bath,” he suggests softly. “It might help you fall asleep.”

“I’d get blood on you.”

“That’s alright.” He kisses the top of my head. “I’ve had blood on me before.”

“Yeah, but not—”

“Blood washes off, sweetheart. I just want to be with you. Make this all go away. It’s not fair that you have to suffer through it month after month.”

I sigh heavily. “I don't have much of an alternative.”

“Well…”

His long pause piques my interest. “Well?”

“I wasn’t going to bring it up until after your bleeding stopped, but do you recall me telling you about Nazali’s friend? The one who demonstrated her surgical skill by implanting a square of fabric in the membrane of an egg?”

“I think so.”

“I wrote to her last month, and just received a reply yesterday.”

He must’ve gotten the letter at the clinic, because I didn’t see any mail. “What did you write to her about?”

“Well… well. It turns out she now owns a surgery just outside Nevivon. And she said she would be willing to, mmm, to do that operation we discussed.”

I shift against him. The steady movement of his hand has eased my pain a little, for the moment, but the nausea remains. “The one for you?”

He nods. “She also said she was developing a treatment for, ah, for people with your anatomy.”

He’s still holding strong to the very first promise he made to me. I really do love him, more than I could ever say.

“It’s something to do with removing the lining of the womb, still in the experimental phase,” Julian continues, “But she said it should be available by the time our trip rolls around. If you— if you wanted, I could write her back and snag a spot. One of both of us, even.”

“It’ll kind of put a damper on the vacation, though, won’t it? Having to stop for surgery in the middle?”

“As I understand it, the recovery period is quite short. Around a week, the letter said. And we would have to, erm, abstain for a bit after that as well.”

“But then? No more of this? No more gross teas or sheaths or anything?”

“If we both go under the knife, yes.”

Another twist of pain is building. I feel a gush of blood seep out in response to the contraction. I hope it doesn’t get on the sheets this time. Julian’s bath idea sounds very nice, all of a sudden.

And his other ideas, too.

“I would miss the chance to look after you, darling,” he says quietly. “To be here for you like this.”

I think I understand what he means. “You take really good care of me. All the time, not just now.” I stretch up to kiss his chin.

He chuckles and kisses me again, more soundly, on the lips. “I’m glad you think so. I suppose there’s nothing better I could do than end your discomfort permanently, is there?”

“True.”

“And…”

I glance at him when he hesitates.

“And I want you to be happy in your body, my dearest. I know it upsets you, to go through this so regularly. More than you let on. I… I won’t say I understand, because I don’t know that I can without the same experience, but I love you so very much. I can’t stand to see you in pain.” He nuzzles me and sighs. “If I can help, whether it’s through this procedure or another one, or just providing for you when I’m able, I will. I would do anything for you, Reyja.”

My heart might burst. I know he means every word, the same way he meant it when he said he wouldn’t misgender me again. We sit in silence for several minutes, and my next cramp fades under his comforting hand. He breathes with me, in and out, and before I even realize it, I’m finally floating down into sleep. The last thing I notice is the press of his lips to the hair above my ear.

It feels like love.

And in a way, it is.


End file.
